


Lessons for beginners

by thejourneymaninn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cooking, Fluff, Lyriumchristmas, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Pre-Relationship, but it's a start, heavy on the 'pre', pre-fenders - Freeform, still a looong way to go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8912146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: Things don’t go all that smoothly when Anders accidentally barges into Fenris’ cooking lessons. Yet a few days later, the elf shows up at his clinic with an unexpected offer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the lyriumchristmas campaign on tumblr. Prompt: 'Cooking/Baking'

“Venhedis.”

Anders lowered his staff when he heard the familiar curse, in an even more familiar voice, and allowed himself to take a deep breath. So, all that clanking and rustling _wasn’t_ assassins trying to enter Hawke’s estate through the kitchen. Well, so far so good. Fenris was not a danger. He frowned at the thought, quickly adding “to Hawke!” But…what exactly was he doing in her kitchen?

Swinging open the door, he was met with an image he wished there was a way to preserve for eternity. Fenris, covered in grease and stains of what Anders assumed was some sort of sauce, not blood, looked only slightly less wrecked than the room around him. There were pans on the floor, yet more traces of the mysterious sauce covering the walls, inexpertly chopped vegetables littering the half of the surfaces that wasn’t covered in water, and somewhere in the corner, the strangest sight of all – Orana, _laughing_. Not the usual timid giggle that she tried to suppress before it had a chance to even make a sound, but uninhibited, full-bellied cackling.

Unfortunately, it died in her throat the moment she saw him.

“Master Anders! I...were you using the library again? I did not realise you were here. Did…did you need something? We were just…”

“Redecorating?”

He got the shadow of a smile for his trouble, but the mirth from before seemed to be gone for good. She was studying the floor the way she so often did. Deciding it was best to release her from the burden of having to deal with him, he turned towards the other elf in the kitchen, the food-covered one who was currently glaring at whatever it was that was sizzling on the stove as if it were his mortal enemy. Well who knew, perhaps it was mage stew.

“You look lovely, Fenris. Positively edible. Although if you’re trying to make dinner for Hawke, I should probably inform you that she left for the Hanged Man several hours ago.”

“I am aware of that,” came a hiss not unlike the sound of the water that kept dripping into the flames.

“Then…what _are_ you doing here?”

“I…Orana is teaching me how to cook. So far, with limited success.”

Anders was stunned. He would be blighted before he’d let it show, however. (Although come to think of it…he already was.) Taking in the chaos around them, he said, with a grin he knew would annoy Fenris to no end, “Well, I guess that’s a matter of definition. I mean, we can say without a doubt that food has changed from one state into another. That’s a start. Well, at least as far as I know.” He considered sampling whatever was clinging to Fenris’ ear to make another jibe at the taste but decided he didn’t want to die just yet. The elf looked angry enough as it was. Or…was that colour in his cheeks…a blush? And the way his hands were fidgeting… Maker, was he… _embarrassed_? Anders cleared his throat. That was unchartered territory. “So, eh, tell me again, why is Orana teaching you how to cook?”

“A free man should be able to provide for himself. As it is, I am dependent on taverns. And dinner invitations from Hawke.”

Oh. Spirit bolts fired.

“That…is a good point, actually.” The ensuing silence was everything but comfortable. “Perhaps,” Anders scratched the back of his head, “I could join you? I…don’t exactly have a kitchen in my clinic, but I can make a fire. It wouldn’t hurt to learn how to prepare simple things. If you don’t mind…At least you wouldn’t be the only one who is completely clueless.”

There was a fraction of hesitation, then Fenris shrugged. “If you wish. So long as you do not get in my way and only handle knives at a safe distance.” Coming from Fenris and directed at him, this was akin to effervescent enthusiasm.

“Great. Alright, what’s the lesson?” He turned to Orana with a smile – which faded once he realised how pale she had become.

Walking towards the stove, she began to explain what they had been doing in hushed, hectic sentences, almost tripping over her feet and not looking at him even once. Or at Fenris, for that matter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fenris pinch the bridge of his nose with a slight shake of his head. He sighed internally. So much for that.

Out loud, he said with all the fake cheerfulness he could muster, “Maker, I forgot. I told a patient to come meet me later. I’d better go to the clinic. You two just go on…Fenris can pass the lessons on to me. Alright, bye.”

Again, he caught a glimpse of Fenris’ expression as he turned to leave. There was confusion, suspicion – and something else Anders couldn’t quite place.

 

 

A few days later, Fenris turned up at the clinic. That was really the only way to put it. Anders had been sitting at his desk, engrossed in writing, and when he had looked up the elf had simply…been there.

Fenris wasted no time on greetings. “You said you wanted to learn how to cook. Was that true? Or were you just mocking me?”

“How in Thedas would that be ‘mocking you’? I simply thought it would be nice to learn a few things as well. It’s about time; I am…not twenty anymore.”

“And yet you ran away immediately.” Despite the words, the elf didn’t sound accusing. He seemed to be simply stating a fact.

“Orana didn’t want me there. That much was clear. She was so uncomfortable and twitchy, I was afraid she might burn herself. So I thought I’d better leave you two to it. Excuse me for wanting to make things less awkward, I guess,” Anders huffed in reply. 

Fenris nodded.” I wondered if that was the reason. That was…thoughtful of you, mage.”

“Well yes, I’m a very considerate person.”

Fenris let out a snort that Anders chose to ignore. Then he asked, “Are you busy?”

“There’s always something to do around here, but no, no more than usual. Why?”

“If you still wish to learn, I can show you how to cook.” He cleared his throat. “At least the two dishes I have managed to produce so far. I have the necessary ingredients in my mansion.”

“You…” Anders narrowed his eyes. “Wait, are _you_ mocking me?”

“Yes, mage. I walked all the way into your sewers for exactly that purpose. An efficient use of my time, no doubt. Now do you want to learn, or not?” The way Fenris was slowly walking toward the door left no doubt he was prepared to leave without him.

“You know what…why not. This should be interesting.”

He grabbed his staff and hurried after Fenris.

“I live to entertain,” the elf said evenly, without turning to look back at him.

 

 

Two hours later, Fenris’ kitchen was in a state of severe disarray. As were Anders’ hair, his motivation, and his patience with Fenris, the world, and himself.

“You added the ingredients in the wrong order again.” Fenris had to be at least as frustrated as he was, yet somehow managed to sound calm as he sighed, “I am not explaining this well. Orana would be better suited.”

“A _nug_ would be better suited, “Anders muttered. “But since they live underground and Orana is scared senseless of me because I’m a mage, I’ll just have to make do with your level of competency.”

“Not because you are a mage. Because you are human.”

Anders nearly dropped another egg. “Excuse me?”

Fenris tone was as matter-of-fact as before. “She still feels uncomfortable around humans. Even Hawke. I know you do not want to hear it, but the magisters do not hesitate to collar their own kind. Many slaves are mages.”

“But…” Anders frowned, “aren’t there human slaves as well?”

“Countless. But even among slaves, elves are the lowest of the low.”

He could neither hold back the words, nor the bitterness in them. “There are free elves though. I remember one immensely charming one in particular. Of course, she was also a mage.” Fenris jaw set and Anders felt that familiar rush of guilt. Why was he almost delighting in hurting Fenris? It wasn’t like him; he didn’t want people to suffer. Why were things so different when it came to the elf?

“There are. But even free, even as a mage, an elf will always be below humans. In Tevinter even more than here.” Fenris’ voice sounded strained. Every part of him seemed to have tensed up.

“I didn’t mean…I know it must have been hard – still is, I guess – for her. And you,” he added, his voice even more quiet than before. “It just stung when she stopped laughing the minute she saw me.”

“Your feelings were hurt. What a terrible predicament. I apologise.” The dry acid dripping from his voice notwithstanding, Fenris visibly relaxed. “Why did you barge into the kitchen in the first place?”

“You were making so much noise I thought there were assassins.”

The elf’s lips gave the tiniest quirk towards a smile. “You are aware that the point of being an assassin is _not_ to make noise, I hope?”

“Well, yes,” Anders defended himself, “obviously they wouldn’t have been _good_ assassins. More like…assassins with insufficient skills.”

“Ah. Those.”

“Alright, now you _are_ mocking me.”

“Perceptive as always.”

After some more bickering and a lot more chaos, Anders’ wrestling with instructions and ingredients began to evolve into something that might have passed for cooking. Slowly, while day made way for night, things became almost…peaceful between them. They found a rhythm, and under Fenris’ surprisingly patient guidance, Anders managed to produce something that looked edible.

“It looks good,” Fenris said in a way that sounded as near to appreciative as Anders had ever heard. “I assume you are hungry. We can eat upstairs.”

They carried Anders’ creation, along with some wine and bread, to his room. Anders felt a little weird - he had never been here with only Fenris present. Diamondback, picking up the elf for yet another adventure with Hawke…they had always been able to count on others filling the silence. 

As it turned out, it was, while indeed rather quiet, not uncomfortable. The food tasted good enough to make Anders glow with pride, and after they had finished, Fenris seemed in no hurry to kick him out. He even offered Anders some wine, which he accepted. Justice’s presence meant he couldn’t feel the effects, but he could still appreciate the act of sharing a drink with a…with someone.

They continued to sit in silence. Anders stared into the flames in the fireplace, flickering as restlessly as his thoughts. Fenris, rolling his eyes at him. Fenris, still offering to teach him how to cook. Fenris’ body going rigid. Orana’s uninhibited laughter dying the moment she laid eyes on him.

“Fenris? Tell me about Tevinter.”

“Must we go on about this? I have said enough already.”

“No,” Anders said quietly. “I mean _really_ tell me.”

A brief pause during which the elf’s expression made him wonder if he was going to get snarled at, punched, or hugged. Then Fenris’ voice, equally quiet: “Will you _really_ listen?”

He nodded, not managing more than a whisper. “Yes.”

And he would. He would listen without immediately starting to question the truth of what the elf said. Even if Justice was quivering in unease at all the things he didn’t want to hear. Even if he wanted nothing more than to make this blighted block of granite see that the Circle wasn’t all that different. They could fight again tomorrow. Tonight, he would simply listen and let his barbed tongue rest. 


End file.
